


When Today, When Tomorrow

by elfriniol



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Swearing, Trans Character, possibly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 20:44:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7237825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfriniol/pseuds/elfriniol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the destruction of Starkiller base, a cloud of uncertainty settles over the General - his future in the Order looks grim (to him, at least) and delivering Ren to Snoke may be his final mission. Meanwhile, Ren comes to in unfamiliar surroundings and seeks some answers, but the only thing he learns is that he's not the only one wounded there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Today, When Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> I'm tagging "trans character" because I wanted to leave it entirely up to the reader to decide whether the characters are trans or cis. Usually, fics operate with rather explicit implications the characters are cis and sometimes I miss the freedom to interpret the characters how I want to, so I tried to make a difference with this fic. I'd like to believe it's a decision someone might appreciate.
> 
> Also, I wrote this as a sort of a follow up to a [fanart ](http://mini-mantis.tumblr.com/post/145879921296/some-hurtcomfort-kylux-before-bed-dont-worry)I did a while back.

Waking up was never one of his strong points, much less so when his whole body felt sore and ragged. One med droid stood at the bedside, busy checking torn up muscle and sinew that had been his right arm. The pain he felt wasn't adequate to the state of his body – he suspected anesthetics. He drifted off to sleep again.

When he next awoke the droid was gone, as well as some of the raw sting of his wounds. His mind seemed in better condition too, the haze of anesthetics slowly wearing off.

  


Breathe out, breathe in.

  


Ren sits up, with some care. Looking down at his left flank he half expects to see a hole in his abdomen, but there is only a shiny red knot of skin. It will make a fine scar, over time.

It's his right arm that worries him. His shoulder is bandaged, but there's no sling. Ren flexes his fingers, curls them into a fist. Weaker than usual, but otherwise functional. Good. Now to move the whole arm. Painful, but not unbearably. It will take some time to regain its full strength and he's unsure whether it regains full mobility, but for now Ren is somewhat content. No amputation, no crippled limb.

He doesn't check the gash on his face. As if he ever cared about his looks.

  


Ren had questions, quite a few actually. Carefully he got out of the bed and made for the door.

  


The next room is the same as the one he woke up in – empty; this treat emphasized by white noise buzzing in the air. There's a bed on the far side and Ren notices the sheets are crumpled. This room has an occupant, even though they're not in view this exact moment. Ren hopes it's Hux. Right now he'd be the easiest to talk to – Ren isn't really acquainted with anyone else in the Order and he can't imagine having to deal with his social anxiety while injured, both physically and mentally. While Hux may – most likely will – mock him, it's something Ren's used to.

As he walks towards the other door, Ren notices the white noise is actually a sound of running water. He turns toward the refresher entrance - it's not locked.

Ren was right – Hux is here; only he doesn't seem like Hux at all, sitting on the floor, naked, knees drawn to his chest, hair stuck to his scalp under the raining water. He flicks his eyes to Ren, looks away, expression indifferent.

„You're awake.“

The whole scene is so absurd that Ren suspects the med droid pumped him with a little more painkillers than his body mass allowed for. Hux looks pale, tired; his lips are tinted with blue and Ren checks the water. Cold. „Fuck, Hux, how long have you been here,“ Ren asks, kneeling down.

A shrug. No effort.

„Get up.“ It doesn't sound harsh, not as harsh as Ren thought it would. He reaches over to stop the water, helps Hux to his feet. When Hux makes no move, Ren picks up a towel with a sigh and starts working on Hux's hair.

Ren still has questions – more than he had a few minutes ago, in fact. However, Hux is in no state of providing answers.

„I don't know what you were thinking, but this was dumb. Hey,“ he doesn't have the heart to push Hux away when he leans his forehead against Ren's good shoulder. „Come on, you need some warmth,“ says Ren thinking of Hux getting dressed. Not of Hux snaking his arms around him, pressing his whole body into his. „Hey. This is ridiculous.“

„Shut up.“

Ren does – it's for the better, as is embracing Hux in a quiet move of support. Hux looks very different when stripped of the uniform; Ren takes it all in: shoulders that are not quite as broad as when clothed, narrow hips, waist smoothed out by gradual curves on either side. Dusting of freckles.

Cold.

„I'm gonna put you to bed,“ Ren announces, to avoid any misunderstanding, and lifts Hux up. Even in his weakened state and only half-functioning dominant arm Hux's weight doesn't represent any burden, perhaps thanks to regular work-outs or malnutrition. Or both. Ren feels uncomfortable pressure in his side as Hux wraps his legs around him, strong thighs squeezing the recent injury, but is unable to tell Hux to stop. Given how Hux clings to him, Ren probably isn't the only one wounded here.

The mattress is soft and welcoming – even though he's been awake for less than half an hour, Ren finds the idea of lying down to rest appealing. The sheets wrinkle in response to the applied pressure. The whole ordeal is rather intimate, but there is this underlying awkwardness stemming from how everything happened _so fast._ Starkiller gone. Near-death experience. The bridge – Ren forbids himself to think about that. Not just yet.

And now Hux, _General Hux_ , in his arms, about to have a mental breakdown.

Distance is essential. With that in mind, Ren pulls away, stands up.

_Stay._

It's not a word – not exactly. It's a concentrated train of thought that has just emerged from a dark tunnel, carrying uncertainty, not-belonging, anxiety. And fear – almost tangible fear. It kindles a flickering flame of sympathy in Ren, regardless of the bad blood between them; now isn't the time for infighting. He starts taking off his pants before he can change his mind, then climbs over Hux to lie next to him.

Hux is inert, at first. Not inert as in completely numb, mind you, but inert as in still, unmoving. Inside, where carefully arranged image gives way to thoughts and emotions, he's a flurry of restlessness, deconstructing reality and constructing „what-if“ scenarios. It's effectively crippling him – that, and it's impossible to ignore. Lying here for several hours and listening to the brewing panic could result in a migraine (for Ren, of course).

It's when Ren draws the blanket over them that Hux stirs – barely visible tilt of head accompanied by a wide-eyed stare, as if he's already forgotten about another man in his own bed, and then he shifts closer. It forces Ren to stay sharp – he's not prepared for this. Not for the softness of Hux's cheek against his throat, for the uneven throbs that have to be Hux's heart beating, nor for the suffocating intimacy. All of it is new and unknown, and in some dusty corner of Ren's mind materializes something akin to contentment. Hux doesn't feel bad pressed flush to his skin, and Ren could, after some getting used to, fall asleep like this, arms draped over freckled shoulders and narrow waist.

Until he feels hands running over his ribcage and down, to the waistband of his underwear.

Distance. _Now._

„Touch me.“

A siren goes off in Ren's head, screeching like an irreparable electronic malfunction and lifting a red sign that spelled _stop._ „That may not be the best idea.“

Hands on Ren's shoulders are demanding, needy, „I don't care,“ Hux says out loud and claws on muscle with his fingers, strong enough to leave a mark, and Ren is willing and withdrawing at the same time, unsure about anything anymore. He starts forming a sentence but suddenly there are lips at the corner of his mouth, tracing the distorted skin of his most recent wound, and Hux's presence gets to him like heavy, dizzying smoke.

„Hux.“ He tries to be gentle, tries to push Hux back into the mattress, away, somewhere where Hux can grasp onto a thin string of rational thought and see the same line that Ren sees, the line that should not be crossed; tries to steer Hux clear from this direction. „ _Hux.“_ When Hux's mouth is gone, there are still his hands, his knee rising to nudge Ren through his underpants, his breath becoming louder – the sound stifling – his hair, still damp, thrown around his head like a crown. And his eyes – stars, his _eyes._ „Wait-“

Spark. „Wait for what? Don't you realize I don't exactly have time for that?“

„You might regret this.“ _There's no way you'd want_ _this –_ _me – were you thinking straight. „_ Will regret this.“

As Hux takes hold of Ren's face, his hands are shaking, but not from cold or despair this time. It's a tidal wave of anger, and it takes great effort on Ren's part to withstand the storm in Hux's eyes. „Yes, I probably will. As well as I regret thousand other things I fucked up in my life – bigger, more important than just one fling with you.“

Words. Razor-sharp.

„This might be my last few hours here.“ _This might be the last time I see you._ „I don't have much more to lose, Ren. Don't take it away from me sooner than necessary.“ Hux's grip loosens; he caresses the slash across Ren's face. _Do you want me?_ „Do you hate me?“

„Yes- _no_.“

„At least you're honest.“

„Hux-“

„It's alright.“ _I wanted to hate you too. Couldn't._

„For fuck's sake _listen to me for once_ ,“ this time it's Ren's hands framing Hux's face, Ren's gaze boring down into Hux's eyes and Ren, shocked, finds sadness there, poorly concealed with smouldering coals of Hux's previous outburst. „What is this, Hux, don't try to deny it, you're doing this on purpose. You're not stupid – you know I can pick up some of your thoughts – you're practically yelling at me without actual words. Why don't you say it,“ Hux tries to look away. Ren doesn't let him, „I can see you're scared,“ Hux's eyes squeeze shut. Ren leans in close. „Shaken. Lost.“

„Stop.“

„Let me help you,“ Ren whispers against Hux's lips, hands sliding into that ginger halo – so soft without the product keeping it in place during work. „Let me take some of that weight off of you. No need to play tough. I know you're strong.“

Hux is still – not even a thought racing through his mind. Trying to be reassuring, Ren tips his head forward, closing that short distance between Hux's mouth and his own, making the kiss seem more like a breeze than a physical touch. For a heartbeat Ren thinks he's gone too far – in every way – but then a pair of familiar arms twists around his torso, pulls him close, so close he feels Hux's breath ghosting over his ear.

_I might never see you again._

In response Ren embraces Hux tighter. He more feels than hears the shuddering sob Hux lets out – raw, half choked, without tears. One and enough.

„Hold me,“ Hux says out loud. Those words are cracked and held together by sheer despair. „Kiss me. Bruise me. So I don't forget. Not anytime soon.“

 

***

 

„You know, I don't hate you. Even if you sometimes get on my nerves.“

„Good.“

„That's all you say about it? Good?“

„Yes. Under current circumstances I'm trying to be content with even the most insignificant positive outcome.“

„Most- _what_!“

„Figuratively speaking. Now kiss me again.“

„Bossy, aren't you.“

„I haven't become a general for nothing. Besides, you kiss good.“


End file.
